


Of Ink and Time

by bluebeIIflames



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, Excessive use of italics, I really really love tony stark ok, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Tony, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Polyamory, Protective Natasha Romanov, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Starvation, Swearing, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, its for like 7 days and it isn’t intentional, not beta read we die like men, this is some weird post winter soldier time pocket, this is very important to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeIIflames/pseuds/bluebeIIflames
Summary: There, standing at a dismantled once-grave with a dead man breathing, Tony speaks. It all spills out once he starts—the hatred he fostered once he realized he would never (couldnever) be as good as Captain America; the resentment that Steve Rogers had what he never would; the stupid, childishawethat this war hero from so long ago was here and breathing. It tumbles from his mouth in a broken, vicious stream. Starts with the stilted “Fuck you and everything you've done,” ends with the raw “I’m sorry, you deserve more than me.”OrThe one where Tony has always known his soulmates are dead. Until they aren't.





	1. Fine

Steve and Bucky knew each other from a young age. That was unusual in and of itself, but then the world worked in odd ways where the two of them were concerned. Steve grew up with _Leave him alone_ on his right forearm and _Fuck you and everything you’ve done_ on his left. Bucky grew up with _I’m sorry_ on his left and _Thank you_ on the other. They grew up with one string of letters the pale gray of the dead and one the stark black of thrumming life. They grew up with a soulmate by their sides and a gravestone across their skin. 

When Bucky went off to war Steve tried to follow. He didn’t think he could handle two dead, didn’t think he could handle losing the only one he had left. He made it, eventually. Made it in spite of his sickness—his _weakness_. Steve made it because he had to. He wouldn’t let Bucky go down alone, wouldn’t live with lonely gray arms and a bleeding heart. If Bucky died then he would too. _Until the end of the line._  
—————  
Steve hadn’t expected the serum. Hadn’t expected to ever grow strong or healthy or important. He was glad. The better to protect Bucky, the better to protect everyone whose soul mark was still black. Steve had decided he would do something the day he saw a soldier staring at the gray letters on his left arm in broken despair, the day he realized that Bucky’s death would rip him open and shred his insides like tissue paper.

Steve did something the day Bucky went missing and he felt the tingling in his arm that meant he might not have a soulmate for much longer. It was no surprise, really, that Steve fought like a caged beast. In some dark, feral way he was.

From there everyone knew the story. Everyone knew they formed the Howling Commandos, fought and fought and _fought_ , Bucky fell to his death in the ghostly alps and Steve followed not long after to save the world.  
—————  
This is what Tony grows up with: a father obsessed with finding a relic from long ago, two arms branded with the promise that he will always be alone, bruises from a man who cannot bring back the stuff of legends. Tony grows up with hatred.

He learns that he is cursed for being abandoned since birth, unnatural for carrying death wherever he goes, a tool because pain is written across his very soul. Tony starts wearing exclusively long sleeves in public when he is eleven, though whether that is because of his father or his marks he is unsure.  
—————  
When his parents die Tony remembers how Steve had Bucky and vice versa, despite his attempts to drive the two from his mind. They haunt him as laughing specters, the soulmates who had everything Tony never will, the ones his father cared for more than his own son. That’s when he begins to build U and Butterfingers and creates the blueprints for JARVIS, when he recreates DUMM-E from what he remembers before Howard threw him at a wall in a fit of rage. _Captain America_ , Tony thinks savagely. Soon the A.I. are the closest he’s ever had to a family.

The first human friend Tony makes is Rhodey. Tony thinks they became friends because Rhodey needed help passing a course and Tony wouldn’t let him leave afterwards. Stockholm Syndrome or whatever. Rhodey says it’s because Tony is funny and sweet and caring, or some sort of shit like that. Tony knows it isn’t true, but it still makes him smile. 

He meets Pepper next, then Happy. Every time he drags them into his orbit and won’t let them leave, until eventually they don’t want to. Tony knows the friendships are probably the best thing that will ever happen to him, and hearing that people love and care for him gives a high he could never get from sex.

_Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist_. Tony works and works, builds his empire (not Howard’s, _his_ ), makes weapons Howard never could have, reaches newer heights, becomes more.  
—————  
Then Afghanistan happens. 

Tony goes in as the Merchant of Death, whole and proud and clean. He comes out with a gaping hole in his chest and ribs filled with shrapnel and the arc reactor, new scars, hands more bloodstained than he would have thought possible. He comes out hating himself more than ever. 

He comes out as Iron Man. 

After that it’s a whirlwind. He nearly dies, stops Obadiah ( _Stane_ , he reminds himself. Stane), and nearly dies again. He builds more suits, rediscovers an element, stops some bad guys. He has his heart ripped out and mangled and broken. He lives.  
—————  
He is there when Captain America is pulled from the ice. Watches him defrost and sleep in a time not his own. Memories he did his best to suppress come flooding back, so much pain and hurt and resentment. 

And there, standing at a dismantled once-grave with a dead man breathing, Tony speaks. It all spills out once he starts—the hatred he fostered once he realized he would never ( _could_ never) be as good as Captain America; the resentment that Steve Rogers had what he never would; the stupid, childish _awe_ that this war hero from so long ago is here and breathing. It tumbles from his mouth in a broken, vicious stream. Starts with the stilted “Fuck you and everything you've done,” ends with the raw “I’m sorry, you deserve more than me.”

Because Tony saw. Halfway through a rant about Howard and how different everything could have been, he saw the twin streaks of text, the grayed out _Leave him alone_ and the deep black _Fuck you and everything you've done_. And right then, right there, he knows his life is a joke. A huge, cosmic joke for someone like Tony—someone so broken—to be the great Captain America’s soulmate. 

Tony knows he can never tell him. Deeper than the arc reactor, deeper than his frail heart, Tony knows that he cannot saddle the hero with the screw up that is Tony Stark. He can’t do that to Steve Rogers, can't do it to himself. He is not foolish enough to offer himself hope only to let it be torn away.  
But just before he leaves, as he stands in the doorway, Tony looks back. Just this once, he looks back.  
—————  
Tony doesn't leave his lab for eight days. Eats only when the world starts to sway, sleeps only when he passes out, drinks himself stupid.  
Eventually he gets dragged out by Rhodey. Rhodey who has been with him always, Rhodey who saw his bruises and scars and stayed with him anyway. Rhodey, who never judged him for being marked with death. 

He stomps in on the morning of the ninth day, takes one look at Tony, and picks him up bridal style. They end up in the kitchen, Tony sitting sleepily at the island, Rhodey cooking pancakes. They don't say anything, but when he is done Rhodey walks over and gives Tony a hug. It’s warm and accepting, and everything Tony has always needed. 

When he lets go Tony smiles.  
—————  
When the call comes Tony considers, for one brief, vengeful second, not going. He considers letting other people—people who are actually _heros_ —do the job. They don’t need him. But that thought gets shot down immediately. His hands are already bloodstained, he already has more death on his ledger than anyone he can think of. He may never be able to repent, but at the very least he should try. Try and fix everything he has ruined. 

Tony flies to the helicarrier, meets Fury’s group, meets _Steve Rogers_. Steve says _Mr. Stark_ and Tony feels his arm burn in recognition, but everything is fine. Then nothing is, someone hijacks the tesseract, the helicarrier blows apart. It’s a shame, really, but Tony paints on his masks, fights, dies again, gets shawarma. 

They all go their separate ways and Tony moves back to California alone. That’s okay though, because _he’s_ okay. Even when he isn’t, Tony is _fine_. He shoves Steve from his mind, ignores the nightmares new and old, builds and builds and _builds_. And if sometimes he feels phantom hands and hears cold laughter and shouts then what of it?

The Mandarin comes. Tony almost loses Pepper and Happy, meets a kid who doesn’t judge him in a way no one else could, comes back broken and whole at the same time. Tony nearly loses everything and he can’t help but wonder if it would be easier with a soulmate, if it would be easier with _Steve_ , but then he remembers all the reasons he didn’t want to tell him and they’ve only been confirmed now. 

Then Steve comes back. Comes back and apologizes, and Tony feels years of hatred melt away because it was never Captain America but Howard. So he smiles and says that it’s okay, because it _is_ okay, and offers the tower. It’s been repaired and Tony moved back in and it’s just... _so empty_. Even with the floors full of workers and shops and jabber, Tony is still so alone. 

Steve agrees with a smile, moves in that first week. Then comes Bruce and Tony can’t help but grin because this is someone who understands. Someone who lost their marks when they became someone new and is willing to accept that Tony never had any at all. Bruce never pries at the paint Tony wears constantly now, never asks about the occasional shadows of letters. 

Tony is disgustingly grateful. 

Clint and Natasha appear together a month later, silently, with only a change of clothes and enough weapons to fill an armory. They aren't there one day and then they’re drinking coffee at the breakfast bar and everything is fine. Better than fine. Tony is _happy_.  
—————  
Slowly the Avengers become friends. Tony learns Clint likes small, confined spaces where no one can sneak up on him. That Natasha won’t let anyone else touch anything she consumes and that she has to buy it all herself. That Bruce hides from himself when he’s afraid—covers himself head to toe, avoids mirrors, makes his skin not his own. And Steve. Tony learns about Steve too. He learns that Steve takes out his emotions on a punching bag because men weren’t allowed to be weak. He learns that Steve likes to draw people, likes to be in the thick of things and capture moments. Steve uses drawing to photograph the world in a way he was never able to before. Tony learns just how lonely Steve is, learns the grief of losing your best friend, learns about the isolation of being a hero lost in time. 

And he learns other things too. That Steve pours his milk before his cereal (Tony will never look at him the same), that he always puts on his left sock first and ties his right shoe last. That he likes the morning because of the quiet, with just the birds and the exhausted people heading to work, right when those who partied all night are finally slinking off to bed and the traffic is subdued and quiet. That Steve treats Tony’s robots like people and JARVIS like a friend and Tony like a friend too. And that-and that Tony loves Steve. 

The realisation isn’t sudden, like being hit by a car. It’s a slow quicksand that creeps up on Tony until suddenly he’s surrounded. It’s that one day Tony sits up in bed and his first thought is _I wonder what Steve’s doing today_. And as slow as the realisation is, suddenly it follows Tony everywhere. He can’t look Steve in the eyes anymore without remembering that he loves a man who will never love him back, and he can’t talk with Steve about the past without hating himself for wanting something that isn’t his and will never be his because Steve is _Bucky’s_ and Bucky is Steve’s and Tony has no part in that. And Steve still comes down to the lab almost every day, still smiles at Tony’s disjointed and overly-technical rambling in that quiet way of his that means _I wasn’t really listening to what you were saying but I’d really like to draw you right now_ , still laughs at Tony and his bots’ antics, and grins at Tony’s dumb jokes, and makes sure he eats more than coffee and the occasional energy bar, but everything seems so much _more_ now. 

All the things that made Tony love Steve in the first place are highlighted in hot-rod red with a blinking neon sign that says _Stop_ in great angry letters, and every time Tony sees Steve and thinks _Wow_ he feels that sudden jolt in his heart (both of them) that’s like someone is sitting on his chest, and like he just flipped upside down and then right side up again, and like he’s falling, and like he’s crying at the same time. Tony doesn’t think there’s a specific _word_ for that feeling, just an ache that catches him blind and off guard and dizzy in simultaneously the best and worst way possible. 

And just as he’s coming to terms with this new level of patheticness, just as he accepts that yes, he’s the man who has everything, just not this, Steve leaves. 

Natasha and Steve go off on a mission. Tony is drowning his usual worries in work, locked in the workshop, fiddling with fragments of code and upgrading his suit when JARVIS interrupts with multiple news feeds overrun with chaos. Tony doesn’t know where they are, he can’t contact either of them, Clint has no idea. 

There is nothing he can do and it turns his blood to ice. Tony doesn’t know if either of them are okay. All he knows is the ensuing chaos that every single news station seems to be covering.  
—————  
They expose Hydra, bring SHIELD crashing down, come limping back with a new guy named Sam behind them.  
—————  
Steve is quiet and _so cold_. Tony doesn’t know what happened, because he thought they had been close. 

Natasha is the one to tell Tony what happened. That Bucky is alive, that he was tortured and brainwashed by Hydra, that he’s the Winter Soldier and they don’t know where he’s gone. 

Steve comes to Tony for help eventually, a week later when he has processed everything that’s happened. Tony feels a twinge of _something_ , but he shoves it down and helps. Because Steve deserves his soulmate back, and because Bucky deserves to be helped and possibly healed. Steve tells him about his parents, because of _course_ he does, and after an hour alternating between anger and aching sadness Tony nods and gets back to work. Bucky was brainwashed. It wasn’t his fault.

Eventually he returns too, and Tony sees with pity and disgusting relief that one of his arms is gone. The one that might have had Tony’s words on it is gone. Though Steve sticks by Bucky’s side he immediately begins speaking to Natasha. Tony hurries to speak to Bucky softly, terrified that Steve will hear. “I’m sorry,” spills from his lips before he can help it but Bucky just stares on in confusion. First words out of the way with seemingly no epiphanies or recognition , Tony doesn’t worry about what he says to Bucky, smiles gently and tells him he is welcome here and that he is always there if Bucky needs anything at all and that it isn’t his fault. Bucky doesn’t say anything, just pushes more into Steve, large body shrinking into his soulmate’s shadow.  
Tony pretends the harsh glare Steve sends him doesn’t hurt and leads the Winter Soldier to his room. After so much, Bucky deserves something his own.  
—————  
The nightmares come back in full force that night, (fists and cruel words and icy smirks, the lonly darkness of space and knives scraping against bone, water that is unforgiving and pillowing at the same time, electricity coursing through his veins) and Tony wakes up shaking and sweaty. The dark is the restricting rot of the cave, and his chest burns like it did when the arc reactor was first shoved in, all those years ago.

Five minutes later he is sitting on the kitchen island, clutching a great mug of coffee to hide the trembling in his hands. It is still dark out, the moon high. A rainbow of lights shine all across the city and Tony takes a moment to just absorb it all. To remember that he is in New York, not Afganistan. That the sky is solid and his feet are on the ground. He stays there for another hour before wandering down to his workshop where DUMM-E greets him happily. Butterfingers offers him a wrench. Tony beams and takes it, twining the metal between his fingers before moving over to his latest project.  
—————  
He gets lost in the work and next time he looks up it is bright and the projected time reads 10:47 a.m. His stomach growls, and for a moment he considers emerging to grab something to eat. _Just something quick, get me through the day_ , but when he asks JARVIS who is in the kitchen the idea is immediately shot down. 

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, and Ms. Romanoff. Sir, are you alright?” Tony is staring at his forearm in desperation, licking at his finger and trying to rub off the bright letters. He wants them _gone_ , wants to be able to let Steve and Bucky live happily, wants to be less of a fuck up. “Sir!” He looks up at JARVIS’ voice, startled by the intensity, concerned for a moment that something is happening. 

He hadn’t realized that his skin had gone red and scratched in some places, nor just how hard his heart is pounding. Tony looks away and grabs the sweater he always keeps hidden in a closet for when he feels sick. The rasp of fabric against his suddenly sensitive arm is odd and grounding, sending a shiver down his spine. 

There is a beep and Tony looks down to see his bots crowded around him, sensors all pointing up. “Hey, kids.” Another affirming beep. He moves towards his work table and looks down at whatever the fuck he was working on. “JARVIS? What is this?” Schematics flicker up in front of him and once again Tony sinks into his work.  
—————  
A day later and Tony pauses for a moment to remember that normally Steve never would have let him work this long without leaving the lab. But Bucky is back now, and nothing is normal anymore. Tony decides it doesn’t bother him.  
—————  
A week later and Tony finally emerges, hair oil greased and sweater stained. He wanders toward the coffee machine with a single-minded focus, staring at it numbly as is turns on and begins to grind the beans. A heavy hand on his shoulder makes him jump and he stares up at Steve in confusion. The larger man looks concerned, but Tony isn’t sure why. It’s only been seven days. Tony even ate! He’s pretty sure he slept at some point too, but a lot of it is blurry. Pepper will appreciate it at least. 

“Tony, are you alright?” Tony doesn’t know. Physically he is perfect, if a little tired. Mentally everything seems confused and undefined.

“‘Course I am, Cap. Why’d’ou ask?” So maybe he’s more than a little tired, but that’s what coffee is for. 

_Coffee._

Tony turns back to the machine hopefully, but liquid is only just starting to trickle into the pot. 

“You should sleep.” Tony can _hear_ the frown in his voice, and he doesn’t like it. Cap has his soulmate back. He has Bucky. Steve should be happy. He’s earned that much. 

“Sleep’s for th’ weak,” Tony slurs, pouring steaming coffee into his mug and taking a gulp. “‘M Iron Man.” And that’s that.  
—————  
Tony hadn’t meant to upset Steve. He’d just wanted coffee and to get out. He spends the rest of the day curled up in one of the chairs in the living room with a tablet, nursing his coffee and burned mouth, trying to pretend that Steve’s apparent disregard for his existence since Bucky returned doesn't hurt. It shouldn't. Tony doesn't have any soulmates and he should be glad Steve is with his. 

He’s glad. He _is_. 

Tony is still brooding in a chair when the rest of the team piles in for a movie night, as proclaimed cheerfully by Clint. Usually when they have these Tony sits between Steve and Bruce, leaning into one or the other. Usually, he ends up falling asleep against them and has to be woken up or carried to his room. Bruce wakes him up, Steve carries him. 

Tonight Bucky sits at the end of the couch with Steve huddled close, Steve’s entire right side and Bucky’s entire left pressed together. Natasha sits at the other end and quickly pulls Tony in when the genius looks around helplessly. He doesn't know where to sit without Steve. The assassin cuddles him immediately, wrapping arms around him and tucking her legs up beneath her. Tony melts against her side and pretends he doesn’t notice the space in the middle of the couch left by Steve, who is as close to Bucky as he can get. Bruce, Clint, and Sam sprawl across the floor, Bruce sitting between Tony’s legs.  
They put on some senseless comedy Tony doesn't care about, and he and Clint spend most of it making fun of the movie and each other. Sam jumps in occasionally and Natasha never hesitates to drag Clint. Tony stays curled against her, safe in her arms and secure in the knowledge that Bruce is right near him. He pretends he doesn't notice Steve or Bucky. 

Tony falls asleep halfway through the third movie and wakes sometime later with Natasha carding gentle fingers through his hair and murmuring quiet phrases in russian under her breath. Tony decides then and there that Natasha is the fourth best thing to happen to him, right behind Rhodey, Pepper, Happy, and JARVIS and his bots, on par with Harley and Bruce. (He stubbornly reminds himself that Steve doesn't even make top five because that fifth spot is taken by the formation of both the Avengers and Iron Man. Iron Man would be higher, but...Afghanistan).  
He falls asleep again and opens his eyes to the brilliant light of morning, snuggled beneath mounds of blankets. Natasha is curled in an armchair to the side of the great mattress, tapping away on a tablet. She smiles when he looks at her, and Tony is sure that she knows the exact moment he woke up and opened his eyes. This has happened before, her in his room. She’ll never admit it, but Tony knows it’s because sometimes she can’t sleep and they’ve grown close in the past months. 

Natasha is who Tony goes to when he doesn’t know what to do, or when the day has reminded him of everything he has done. Natasha is the only one of them who has seen his unedited file. She comes to him when something has happened. When she’s killed someone else and can’t quite remember that she’s not the Black Widow anymore, or when dreams stalk her and Clint is too associated with her past to be sufficient comfort. They make an odd pair; the assassin and the mechanic, the billionaire who never cared and the spy who ended up caring too much. Tony is one of three Natasha trusts and he thinks that means more than any compliment.  
—————  
Eventually they wander from Tony’s room to the kitchen, Tony because he is in dire need of coffee and Natasha because she tends to be clingy after an especially bad dream. It is blessedly empty, and Tony immediately perches on the kitchen island as the coffee brews. Today will be another busy day. The Board wants a new prototype for a starkpad and Tony has plenty of half-finished projects he needs to work on. The week long work marathon was only made less productive by Steve and Bucky, and Tony needs to catch up. Plus there is a benefit ball Pepper wants him to attend tonight and it’s already almost noon.  
Tony retreats to his lab, but only after promising Natasha he won’t stay in for a ridiculously long time again. He needs to look presentable for the ball, anyway.  
—————  
It goes fine. People cozy up to Tony either for the money or the reputation, girls and men alike eye him constantly, plenty of people call him Mr. Stark and mean Merchant of Death, even more call him Iron Man. He wants to say that he is Tony Stark. He is both those things and so many more, that he is not a hero. He wants to say that no matter what he has told the press, Iron Man is the suit and JARVIS and so many factors that yes, he contributed to, but that he is not necessary for. _He_ is not necessary. 

Tony stays late, drinks less than normal, throws smiles at the press and everyone in the room, ignores his roiling stomach. 

He returns home wide awake and filled with an adrenaline he can’t explain. It’s nearly two, he should sleep, but his mind is racing through equations and hypotheses and schematics. Tony settles for sitting at the kitchen island, sipping coffee, swinging his legs off the edge as he looks out into the city.  
It’s a testament to just how distracted he is that Tony doesn’t notice Bucky until he’s right beside him. “Nice night,” Bucky says. Tony flinches, and his head whips around quickly enough to hurt. His arm is burning in recognition, and for a second the words choke in Tony’s throat. _Nice night_. So innocuous, such a common phrase. He had given up hope in finding his soulmate even after the words somehow turned back to black. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” They don’t say anything for a while after that. Tony looks back out the window. 

“Listen, I’ve been talkin’ with Stevie, and he thinks it’s a good idea for you to look at my arm.” Tony ignores that strange ache in his heart he always gets when he thinks of Steve, and instead turns a curious gaze to Bucky.

“Really? I don’t want to do anything unless you’re sure.” A few beats of silence, and then- 

“Yeah. I dunno what’s in there and I’d rather not have Hydra wherever I go.”

Tony feels a smile bloom across his face, the first one since that morning with Natasha. “Well then. Follow me!”  
—————  
Dawn finds Tony and Bucky in Tony’s workshop, the former bent over the latter’s arm. The vague schematics JARVIS managed to pull from the nether hang off to the side, and a bizarre assortment of tools arc around them. It’s taken Tony nearly all night to figure out just how the arm worked—the wiring was far more complicated than necessary. 

_Probably_ , Bucky had said, _to make it difficult for anyone to tamper with. They don’t like their belongings messed up._ It sends a shiver down Tony’s spine, the way Bucky speaks of his past. It is so emotionless, so _programmed_ , that sometimes it’s hard to remember that he is a person now, instead of a robot given human flesh. Steve comes down at ten to drag them both up to breakfast, but the engineer can’t shake the idea that he came for Bucky, not him. Afterall, Steve may be Tony’s soulmate, but Tony isn’t Steve’s.  
—————  
The problem is that Tony still loves Steve. Even after Bucky’s return and Steve’s absence, Tony still loves him. Sometimes it feels like he’s finally gotten over it, but then he’ll sit by Natasha and Clint instead of Steve, or walk in on Steve sketching, or see him pull off his cowl after a battle and it leaves him breathless. It only gets worse as time goes on and he’ll catch Steve and Bucky curled up together, or kissing, or holding hands. And the thing is that Tony can’t even be hurt. Not when Bucky will spend every waking hour in his workshop asking him about his projects, or when he plays fetch with the bots, and especially not when Bucky will call him some stupid old-timey name like _Doll_. 

Looking back on it Tony would say that he began to fall in love with Bucky that very first night in the workshop. As it is, he only really discovered it when they all returned from a mission only to find Bucky looking frantic. “What’s wrong, Love?” Steve had asked when Bucky was finished fussing ( _Mother hen_ , Sam had muttered).

“Your communication cut out. I didn’t know if anything had happened, or if you were okay, or if-” he cut himself off, perhaps unsure what he was going to say, perhaps afraid to go down that road of thought again. None of them had said anything, just offered weary smiles as Steve pulled his soulmate close. 

It had hit Tony as he downed nearly half a pizza in record time: _Isn’t Bucky wonderful_. It was a one-off thought, nothing surprising. Bucky was, afterall, wonderful. It wasn’t until that thought turned into _I could kiss him for it_ , that Tony realized something was wrong. You weren’t supposed to want to kiss your friend, and you certainly weren’t supposed to want to kiss your friend’s _boyfriend_. Bucky was firmly off the table, and Tony felt disgusting even thinking of it. What sort of betrayal to Steve...but it was fine. Because Tony wouldn’t do anything. He would shove these stupid new feelings in a box to be examined at a later date. Maybe never. Never sounded good. 

He had considered avoiding both Steve and Bucky, the better to avoid emotions and all the baggage that followed, but somehow he knew that would only invite Steve’s pathetic kicked puppy look and Bucky’s furrowed brow, and a dozen questions of _are you alright_ , and _have we done something_ , and _what’s wrong_. Tony didn’t want to do that. He already felt bad enough. Which meant the only other option was to stick it out. They’d go away eventually—either everyone would leave, like they always did; or the feelings would melt away, or wither up and die, or whatever it was neglected emotions did. And Tony would be fine. He had always been a good actor.  
—————  
Months later and the three of them are best friends. Joined at the hip, laughing, perfect best friends. If you didn’t count the fact that two of them were dating and one of them had a crush on the other two and all of them had decided to ignore whatever it was their arms said. Tony had learned to simply look the other way when they kissed, laugh at their love eyes, make fun of their stupid sappiness. If he’d had a soul it would probably be ruined and broken, but he didn’t, so it was _fine_.

Tony still curled up with Natasha and Bruce at movie nights, still sat wherever there was an empty seat at breakfast, still pulled stunts where he hid in his lab whenever anything got too much, still got dragged out by one or both of the super soldiers. 

Everything would have been fine if not for those stupid alien... _whatevers_.  
—————  
The battle is meant to be easy. Another few aliens intent on conquering the world or something, another few bruises, another few cuts. Run of the mill procedure. Except that the call comes at four in the morning, right when Tony is about to sleep after a three day lab binge. There is no time to chug coffee, no time for anything except to call the suit and rush out the door. Somewhere is the back of his brain, Tony remembers a time when Steve would have dragged him from the lab by the morning of the second day, but that time has long since passed, and though Bucky and Steve still drag him away they sometimes forget. Now Tony is, for the most part, in charge of his own health, just like it used to be. Maybe if he had cared nothing would have happened.  
But Tony had never been the type to put his health before anything, and so it was that he entered a battle that was far more difficult than it had any right to be sleep deprived and slow. 

It isn’t until the end that things begin to go south. Sure, his suit is a bit dented, yes, JARVIS’s voice cuts out every so often, maybe he is bleeding a bit, but it had all been going _fine_. And then, just as they are dealing with the last of the aliens (it had been a small scouting party), one of them saw fit to launch a _fucking subway car_ at Tony’s _fucking head_. Now to be fair it is unlikely that Tony could have dodged completely had he been alert and at his prime. As he is neither of those things, the car manages to clip him head on, sending him and his flickering repulsors spiraling away. 

It all seems a bit hazy after that, lots of sunspots and what appear to be lens flares peppering his vision, a bunch of voices that all seem absurdly concerned for _him_ , of all people, some screaming and crashing of rock, hands fumbling at the catch of his armor and then against skin.  



	2. Better

Tony wakes up in a hospital room, already grimacing at the incessant _beep, beep, beep_ of a heart monitor. There’s something wrong, but it takes him a moment to realize. It’s not that the whole hospital thing hasn’t happened before, exactly, (it has—more times than Tony would like to admit) but that his hands are being held. That is most certainly new. Tony knows the script. He’ll open his eyes, his team will be gathered around, Bruce and Steve will be concerned, Clint will tease him, Natasha will threaten his life for getting hurt until she deems him soundly chastised. It’s a ritual at this point. Everyone has a role. No one is supposed to hold his hand. Even after Bucky was added into the equation, nobody _held his hand_. And yet here he is. 

Eventually Tony opens his eyes, mostly because he needs to know which poor fucks were saddled with holding his hand in a hospital. He is not, perhaps, quite prepared for what he sees. Steve is sitting by his bedside, Tony’s right hand firmly between both of his, head bowed. He looks exhausted, shirt wrinkled, hair tousled and dirty, a bandage on his left forearm. There is movement on his other side, and Tony turns his head only to see Bucky, looking just as unkempt, with his human hand over Tony’s. The rest of his team are in the background, but they seem pretty insignificant right now. Nothing about this scene is okay, exactly, but Tony’s head is starting to hurt again. And so, with an ever eloquent “ _Fuck_ ,” Tony closes his eyes and lets sleep take him.  
—————  
Things are strange after that. When he wakes up again Bucky and Steve are still there, and Tony is too awake now to pass out again. They look positively _tormented_ , and Tony can’t help feeling guilty. It isn’t fair to put so much worry on their shoulders. They’ve been through enough.

They start to speak as though they have never met Tony before, all awkward and halting, stumbling over words and fidgeting with both their own hands and Tony’s. Half way through Steve gets up and starts pacing, fingers twisting together behind his back. It takes them far too long to get to their point, even longer for Tony to understand just what they have said.   
—————  
“We’ve been talking to each other about this for a while now, Doll. We care about you a lot,” Bucky says, playing with Tony’s limp fingers.

“Yeah Tony, you’re one of the most important people to us and we were afraid to tell you and mess it all up.”

“Tell me _what_ , guys?” They’ve been edging around the subject for nearly five minutes now, mentioning something and then skirting around to find a different topic.

“It’s just...we both like you. A lot.” Bucky’s voice sounds oddly meek, a far cry from his usual tone.

“Look-no-Tony-it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything. We just wanted to tell you. You have a right to know. We’d never act on it if you didn’t want us to.” Steve sounds so _timid_ , and it doesn’t match with Tony’s image of him _at all_.

“Doll, you’re incredibly important to us. We aren’t saying this to guilt you or make you feel like you have to do anything. We just thought you should know.”

“And if...if you _do_ feel similarly then we’d be happy to have you.”  
Bucky offers a rare smile. “More than happy.”

“But...you’re soulmates. I’m just me. Why would you want someone extra when you already have each other?”

“ _Tony_. We don’t care that you aren’t our soulmate.” Steve looks so _sad_ , and Tony would do anything to wipe that look from his face. “Your name doesn’t have to be written on someone’s arm for them to love you.”

“But...I don’t….”

“It’s okay, Doll. You don’t have to say anything now. We just thought you should know. We aren’t expecting anything, I promise.”  
—————  
Tony hasn’t been alone with them since. Whenever they are together Steve and Bucky always take care not to touch Tony much at all—a strange shift from the tactile friendship they shared. They never say anything about it again, and a week later Tony is still trying to work through what exactly happened. 

Amidst all the rambling they had managed to convey their message clearly. Try as he might Tony can’t find another way to spin it. They want him, even though he isn’t their soulmate. A bit of him aches at that thought but he ignores it. 

The thing is that as much as he wants to accept, be part of them in every way, there is still the reason he never told them they were his soulmates in the first place. It isn’t as though all the baggage he was carrying before evaporated. It’s all still there, slowly growing with every life he fails to save. Accepting wouldn’t be fair. And even beyond that, Tony is too terrified to ever tell them of the letters streaking down his arms. He can’t deal with the fallout. Not after everything.

And even though Steve and Bucky said they want him anyway, soulmark or no, Tony knows it doesn’t work that way. He is there temporarily. They’ll get tired of him, because everyone does. Tony is difficult. Tony will be a bonus—there until he messes up. 

And he knows what he has to do. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?” JARVIS sounds concerned. 

“Where are Steve and Bucky? I need to talk to them.”  
—————  
Tony meant to tell them no. He did. He had gone to seek out the two super soldiers with the full intent to decline. He couldn’t saddle them with everything, and the fallout when they inevitably tired of him was too dangerous to his already precarious mental state. It just wasn’t worth it.

But then he had actually tried to tell the two that and everything fell to shit. 

They had just looked so _hopeful_ when Tony asked to talk with the both of them. There was that look in both their eyes that Tony had seen so often in the mirror: that careful excitement, as though they were afraid someone would drown it at any minute. It hurt to know he had to put that small spark out.

He’d started off carefully, timidly, as though it was a break up. “Look,” he’d said. “You’re two of my best friends.” And their careful smiles had dropped like stones. Tony thought they looked positively crushed—like an anvil had been dropped from the ceiling and flattened their emotions into cardboard.

“It’s alright, Doll,” Bucky had murmured. “You don’t have to keep going. We get it.” But Tony didn’t think they did. He didn’t know how to explain that he wanted it— _fuck_ , did he want it—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stick them with all his shit.

“No, no. It’s not that, it’s just-” He didn’t have the words for it. Tony had never been good words. Not the way Pepper was. Not the way Steve and Bucky were. Tony was all about actions. Howard had always told him that if he couldn’t put his work where his mouth was he wasn’t worth everything he’d been given. That lesson had been beaten into him long ago. “I care for you both so much. I don’t know what I’d do if-if something happened.”

“Hazard of the job,” Steve said. “You know that.”

“No. That’s not what I meant. I mean if something happens with us. If you get tired of me. I’m-I’m old, you know. I don’t want to grow ugly while you stay young and beautiful. I don’t want you to be ashamed-”

“Doll, stop. You should know that’s not what we care about. You’re beautiful now, you’ll be just as beautiful in ten years.”

“But you’re so perfect. And I’m-” Tony gestured to himself, unsure how to add that he was a _murderer_ , that every time he touched something he left a blood stain behind, that he was _fucked up_ in every sense of the word. 

“Tony,” Steve said, and he sounded just a bit desperate. “You’re beautiful. You always have been. Even before we were friends, I thought you were beautiful.”

Tony wasn’t entirely sure why he kept trying to explain why they couldn’t be together, Bucky and Steve both understood he’d rejected them. Every awkward word and half explanation probably only drove the hurt deeper. “Look. You’re both so important to me. It hurts sometimes, just how much I care for both of you, but-”

“But what? If you care so much why can’t we be together?”

“Because I’m _awful_! I’m-I’m _annoying_ , and _rude_ , and I’ll just bother you constantly. Shit, I already _do_. You’ll get tired of my shit and you won’t want to be around me any longer but you’re both too goddamn _nice_ to every fucking _tell_ me that, and then you’ll be saddled with me. And I don’t want that. I can’t -” and for the first time in years, Tony was crying. It all felt like too much, suddenly. Having his soulmates dangled in front of his face and having to refuse felt like it was breaking his heart. 

Vaguely he felt warm hands take his own, arms wrap around him from behind, a solid chest against his back. He leaned into the contact, head falling onto a shoulder, body betraying his mental tirade to _leave, don’t get too close_ -

And then there was a mouth against his and he wasn’t thinking much of anything any more.

It only lasted a second, nothing more than a press soft lips against Tony’s, but he thought perhaps that was the most breathless second he had ever lived. When Steve pulled away (because it had been Steve that kissed him, because somehow Steve wanted _him_ ) all Tony could do was stare. He was still pressed against the solid mass that must have been Bucky behind him, and Tony melted into the embrace further, letting himself be held.

Steve was watching carefully, probably searching for any negative reaction, but Tony just smiled at him, tears forgotten as what had just happened sunk in. Steve had _kissed Tony_. It felt like the best day of his life. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. 

“For what?”

Tony brushed a hand over his lips. “Everything.”  
—————  
And now, fully against his wishes, Tony has two boyfriends. It feels too good to be true; he had never seriously considered the possibility of the three of them being together, but here they are. 

He wakes up between them now, which is a whole emotional rollercoaster all on its own. He’s still trying to decide if he wants to tell them of his soulmarks or not. It certainly seems as though they would accept him, but he still isn’t quite certain how permanent this arrangement is meant to be. They say they want him forever, but Tony has heard that before. It never ends well. 

The one upside he can really see to the whole soulmate thing is just how generic his own soulmarks are. _Mr. Stark_ and _Nice night_ aren’t exactly memorable phrases. Not like the black marks he has left on Steve and Bucky. But Steve was in a coma when Tony first spoke to him, and Bucky seems to lack all memory of his mark. Or maybe enough people have apologized that Tony’s didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like he could feel the telltale burning, after all.   
—————  
The dynamic of the team hardly changes. Tony, Steve, and Bucky were already so close that the only thing different is all three of them are kissing now. The knowing glances are aimed at him now, too, and Clint is annoying as ever. Everything stays seamless on the battlefield, and Tony thinks the seven of them are close enough that they’ve become a single, cohesive unit. 

The raging fights between him and Steve seem to have a different edge now, ending with sweat and moans instead of stomping and icy glares. 

Even better than the comfortable reliance and trust, however, are the times when there is nothing to fight. 

The movie nights with Tony curled between his boyfriends ( _his boyfriends_ )—leaning against their shoulders, large fingers combing through his hair, the occasional kiss or wandering hand—fill some part of him he never realized was empty. Waking up in hospital beds with warm fingers laced through his, the food that silently appears in his workshop if Tony has been working for too long, the warm feeling constantly circulating in his chest, it’s all perfect. 

It’s Tony’s fault when everything goes to hell.  
—————  
They are lounging in bed, warm and sated. Tony is sprawled across Bucky’s chest, holding his prosthetic hand in Tony’s right, Steve’s right in Tony’s left. They aren’t really talking, just breathing together, enjoying skin against skin, afterglow still buzzing around them.

Steve hums a little, turns on his side to look at Tony. “You remember when we met?” he asks, voice rough and eyes warm with _something_. Tony mumbles something noncommittal, not entirely sure where this conversation is going, but lazy enough to let it run its course with no real input. Steve’s mouth twists just a little. “I was fresh from the SHIELD barracks, still entirely lost in the twenty-first century and also very confused about why there was an evil god on Earth.”

Tony turns his head to look at him, suddenly a bit more concerned with where the conversation is heading. “It was a clusterfuck of a situation,” he says. 

A smile flashes over Steve’s face, fast enough that Tony wonders if it was really there at all. Bucky is watching the both of them, brow furrowed just a bit. ”I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly, “for that, for everything else.”

“It isn’t a problem. I was awful to you. No one could blame you for how you reacted-” Steve squeezes Tony’s hand and he shuts up. 

“Really, Tony. The things I said…”

“You already apologized. It doesn’t matter.” Tony’s words feel rushed, even to him, but things have been going so well and this is not a memory he wants to revisit. He’s put the battle of New York out of his mind and he’s happy like that. No nightmares if he doesn’t remember anything.

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve says. “Just listen.” Tony doesn’t want to listen. He really, really doesn’t.

“Fine.”

“You remember the first words I said to you?”

“Yeah.” This is a bad topic and Tony would like to run. He’s tempted to, nearly does, but Steve is still clinging to one hand, and Bucky’s prosthetic is wrapped loosely around the other wrist.

“What did you say?”

“Dunno. Cap, probably. That was before I liked you, you know.” That’s a lie.

“What did I say?” There is a phantom burning in Tony’s arm. He moves the hand Bucky released to rub at his concealed mark. Steve’s eyes flicker to it.

“Look,” Tony tries again, “let’s not talk about how anything started. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Steve’s lips press together. That was the wrong answer. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, it just doesn’t. I was a dick, you reacted. It isn’t important. We saved the day, didn’t we? We saved the whole damned world.” At some point Tony began moving his hands to emphasize his point, throwing his arms wide and nearly smacking Bucky in the nose. “Oh,” he says, softer. “Sorry.” 

Bucky just shakes his head. “Let Stevie talk.”

“It matters to me, Tony,” Steve tells him. “Please just tell me? And then we never have to talk about that again.”

“ _Why_ does it matter to you? Why do we have to be talking about soulmates or the battle or _anything_? Why can’t we just ignore that all and keep pretending?”

There’s a moment of silence as everyone absorbs what Tony said, Tony included, and then the room breaks into motion. He bolts before Steve or Bucky have a chance to move, grabbing a robe and fleeing as Bucky calls “Soulmates?”

Steve says “ _Pretending_?” at the same time, voice disgusted, the words intermingling as Tony runs down the hall to the elevator.

“Workshop,” he says breathlessly.

“Sir, I don’t think-“

“ _Workshop_ , JARVIS. _Please_.” The doors close just as Tony’s boyfriends come barreling down the hallway, and by the time they reach the basement Tony’s workshop door is already locked and windows blacked out.  
—————  
Two days hiding and Tony is hungry, thirsty for alcohol he long since threw out, too miserable to sleep. He knows what comes next, plotted it out in the span of seconds it took him to reach the workshop after he ran. Steve and Bucky will connect the dots, realize what he meant by soulmates, work out exactly what they’d first said to him. 

Maybe, if Tony had stayed instead of run away, he might have been able to cover it up or play it off as not wanting to talk about just what an outsider Tony is in their trio, but his flight only proves what Steve and Bucky will inevitably work out if they haven’t already. It aches, to have lost something Tony has wanted for so long.  
—————  
Three days and Tony has eaten all the food in his workshop and is subsisting solely on faucet water and energy drinks. He never restocked the workshop after his last work binge and now he’s paying for it. JARVIS has taken to demanding he unlock the door every time he gives an order, and Tony knows if he just left the workshop his team has been leaving food for him. He’s contemplated it a couple times, opened his mouth to give the request, only for it to snap shut as he considers the consequences of leaving his self imposed exile.   
—————  
Five days and Tony is swaying when he walks, pausing for dizzy spells every time he moves too quickly, pleading with JARVIS more than anything else. He’s sleeping more and more, passing out if he sits still for too long.  
—————  
Seven days and JARVIS opens the door against his command after Tony faints face down at his work bench, barely avoiding being stabbed by various tools, stating only that it goes against his programming to allow harm to come to his master. Tony’s still trying to argue when the doors slide open, mouth open to beg JARVIS to _just let me do this, J. I can’t leave_.

It takes him a moment to recognize Steve and Bucky slumped against the wall across from the door, and Tony goes to take a step—forward or backward he isn’t sure—only to nearly collapse as the workshop spins out of his control. He steadies himself against a stool, arm shaking at the exertion, suddenly very glad all the stupid villains that have come flocking to New York took a break this week. 

When Tony looks back to Steve and Bucky he finds that they’ve moved, horror movie style, come much closer when he was looking away. They stand shoulder to shoulder at the doorway, anxiety battling concern across both their faces, as though they want to help but don’t know if they have permission. But Tony stumbles again and they both surge forward, steadying him, wrapping arms around his waist as they walk him from the room. Tony fights it halfheartedly, too tired to do much but whine and pull weakly back towards the workshop. Neither super soldier so much as falters. 

“Lemme _go_ ,” Tony says. “Steve. Lemme go. I don’t-“ he cuts himself off, settling to just scowl and make vague noises of protest. Talking feels too difficult all of a sudden.

Steve doesn’t respond anyway, just keeps moving Tony forwards. They reach the elevator, but Tony misses where Bucky tells JARVIS to take them. “Bucky,” Tony wines again, because he’s never been any good at staying quiet, “I don’t wanna go.”

Bucky just looks at him, far too used to his boyfriend’s antics for them to have any effect. “And where would you like to be instead?” Tony just stares at him with a look of utter betrayal, hurt and more than a little offended that Bucky would call him out like that.

They end up in medical, because of course they do. Tony is sitting on one of the cots, arms crossed and scowling, looking for all the world like a sullen toddler. He’d struggled as best he could and he had still ended up here, the last place in the world Tony wants to be. The room smells too sterile, like it’s covering up another, worse, scent beneath all the cleaning supplies. It probably is.

Some doctor bustles out, begins poking Tony, asking questions he doesn’t want to answer. Tony stays stubbornly mute, determined not to give an inch. It doesn’t matter anyway. JARVIS answers everything Steve or Bucky can’t, the traitor. Tony pays the doctor no attention, stands as soon as the doctor moves away, fully prepared to escape, only to sway dangerously. Steve and Bucky are there immediately, arms wrapping around him again as Tony begins drifting. His eyelids feel uncomfortably heavy, and he slumps against the warm bodies holding him up. Bucky and Steve are talking again, but the lights and sounds are pulsing in Tony’s head, throbbing with a migraine-inducing intensity. It aches, and when he passes out again Tony can’t help but be just a little grateful.   
—————  
When Tony opens his eyes it’s to his own room, lights steady and Steve and Bucky asleep at his bedside. It’s achingly domestic, and Tony feels a pang when he remembers why he ran in the first place. Concern might have outweighed anger at the time, but he’s better now, and it isn’t like Steve ever had a problem yelling at him while recovering before. Tony worries the anxiety like a stubborn hangnail, only panicking more the longer he dwells on it.   
—————  
He’s never been good at this, the waiting part, not since he was a kid and he’d wait outside Howard’s office to show him a new project. There was a sort of looming danger there, the drop of a rollercoaster, the anticipation of inevitable fallout that Tony opens himself to time and time again. He’s never been any good at the coping bit either. Each rejection only hit harder, and Tony thinks this one will demolish every defense he’s built. Steve and Bucky always were too good at looking right through his walls. Tony doesn’t know if he’ll be able to scrape whatever’s left after this into a cohesive whole again. He knows he will anyway.  
—————  
Bucky wakes up first, opens his eyes and looks straight to Tony. His eyes seem the same as always: a fathomless blue-gray that eats away at Tony’s resolve. Tony’s never been able to read Bucky, not really. It’s something left over from Bucky’s winter soldier days, and Tony loves and hates it in equal measure. Now those eyes turn to Steve for a moment before looking back at Tony. Bucky moves his hand to take Tony’s, and Tony lets him. It feels almost like a goodbye, a silent farewell to all the soft touches and aching gentleness Tony had known couldn’t last forever. 

The room is hushed, silent but for the sound of Steve’s breathing and the constant hum of the tower. It seems wrong to break the quiet, wrong enough that when Bucky speaks Tony startles away. “Can I see them?” Bucky says, a little rough, a little afraid. As though he’s never seen the ghosts of Tony’s marks before, as though Tony could ever say no to him. Tony brandishes his arm, a silent offer and apology. Bucky just runs his flesh hand over Tony’s skin, soft and reverent and everything Tony doesn’t deserve. “They’re really ours?” he asks, and Tony has to look away because _no way_ will he cry now, not in front of Bucky and Steve who have been through so much and don’t deserve all Tony is putting them through now. 

_Together_ , an insidious voice whispers. _They’ve been through everything together._

 _Then they’ll go through this together, too_ , Tony tells it, and it shuts up at that.

Bucky is still running his fingers over the black marks on Tony’s tanned skin, Steve’s letters, somehow so arbitrary. _Ironic_ , Tony thinks, _that Mr. Stark will be the words to break the proverbial camel’s back_. They’ve been parroted to him enough that they hardly have any meaning left. Mr. Stark has meant so many different things in Tony’s life. His father, his future, his birthright. He thinks someday, in an ideal world, it could mean Steve.   
Tony looks to Bucky again, surprised to find Steve has joined him, their fingers tracing out letters. “I’m sorry,” Tony says, and his voice sounds hoarse. Bucky looks up sharply, fingers stilling on Tony’s arm.

“Why,” Steve says, and _god_ , Tony is too tired to dance around anything anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m sorry I lied to you, I’m sorry I led you on, I’m sorry I appeared and fucked everything up again-,” he takes a heaving breath that feels like it’s straining against his ribs. “I’m just-I’m _sorry_.”

Steve is already shaking his head, a look in his eyes Tony’s never seen before. It’s passionate; hot and flaming, like it could burn someone if they come too close; just a little bit sharp and brittle. “You have no reason to be sorry, Tony. None. We love you—both of us—so much. You being our soulmate changes nothing.”

Bucky still doesn’t speak, just rings his fingers around Tony’s wrist in a gentle grip.  
Tony is caught between responding and just letting it happen. It feels like things have been leading up to this for years now, and in this quiet room, Bucky and Steve around him, everything that really needs to be addressed has been. Steve is smiling, soft and angry, Bucky is holding his hand now: warm, solid, real. Tony smiles too, takes Steve’s hand, and closes his eyes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh i realize this took me like 5 months but i’m finally done! thank y’all for reading! this is my first serious fic on this site, and i’m so grateful for all your sweet comments. i could possibly be convinced to write an epilogue, since the ending is a bit ambiguous, but we’ll see. come yell at me on tumblr @bluebellflames

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it! Hopefully the second chapter will be out in a timely fashion. I don't actually know how good this is, so thank you so much for looking at this garbage dump of a fic. Comments and kudos make the world go 'round so. If you could be so kind.


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